


When Rivaille Met Eren

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, fuck I don't know what to tag, it's barely 3k
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't the razzle dazzle "New York New York," yet he couldn't deny the fact that fact that there was something razzle dazzle about the boy at Rockefeller.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Rivaille Met Eren

It wasn’t so much as the flashy New York City he had seen in films, as it had more of a “Get your ass in gear, dumbass!”, “Bike lane, asshole!” sort of quality. There was still a whisper of the flashy film New York in the air, though it may have been attributable to the holiday season. It was late in the evening, and the streets were littered with stressed out New Yorkers, sneaking paranoid glances at their wristwatches, headed towards the train, speaking on their cellphones, etcetera.

Almost everywhere he went he was greeted with dazzling lights and the joyous sound of Christmas carols blaring. Although it was only music, it enhanced the tangible change in atmosphere significantly; he became newly acquainted to the sounds of Frank Sinatra and Lena Horne.

Rivaille stopped where he was to observe two signs. “5 Av” and “E 60 ST” they read, obviously referring to Fifth Avenue and East 60th Street. A mental note of his whereabouts was made, though he doubted he’d need it, as he headed across the street.

Halfway down Fifth, Rivaille became aware that the crowd of pedestrians around him, along with the traffic, also seemed to be increasing in size as he proceeded in the direction he was going.  It wasn’t long before he could see the beginnings of what he had originally come here to see.

Rivaille wouldn’t consider himself a religious man. Hell, he doubted he could even count as having a religion at this point. Yet the sight of the Rockefeller Christmas tree had taken his breath away. He could hear cameras clicking and see the flashes bouncing off the multi coloured fairy lights strung around the tree and wondered whether pictures would do the tree any justice.

To his left, he found a man with a small child gripping his hand, her eyes wide as she took in the sight before her. To his right, he found a young man wearing a ridiculous amount of layers standing beside him. He looked like as though he had been shoved through a slew of clothing stores, gotten tangled in a mess of embarrassing holiday sweaters along with other motley pieces of clothing, had simply shrugged, and proceeded to walk out that way. In his hands, he clutched one of those big, clunky cameras that Rivaille never understood (why bother selling photographs when you could just sell the camera?).

Rivaille’s gaze was carried back to the dazzling tree. It was much more amazing in real life than on Hanji’s crappy television screen. Though, for reasons unknown, his gaze was pulled back to boy in the embarrassing cardigans.

"It’s beautiful," he murmured. His eyes flitted ever so slightly, as though he intended to shower attention on every individual light bulb at least once. Then, he caught Rivaille looking. Before Rivaille even had a chance to look away, pretend nothing had happened, and walk off, he made eye contact  and, having no desire for the awkwardness that would result from looking away, kept his eyes on the boy’s.

He eyeballed Rivaille severely for a moment. “Though I don’t feel any spirit,” he muttered, more or less to himself. “That –” he gestured the Christmas tree rather obnoxiously, with his arm at full length,”– to me, just says, “Okay, it’s December, chuck some lights on the damn tree and get it over with.”

Rivaille gave another once-over of the tree, before regarding him again. “It doesn’t look effortless.”

"Because it’s 2013," he intoned with a sigh, his smile sincere yet miserable, "and at this point, no one really gives two craps." Then, as more of an afterthought, he added ,"I’m Eren." He stuck his hand out.

"Rivaille." He took the gloved hand, gave it a firm shake. Normally he would remove his hand instantly, but Eren’s firm grasp on his hand upon the announcement of his name prevented him from doing so.

"Rivaille? That’s so cool! You make me hate my name."

"You have a nice name?" He didn’t know why that statement came out sounding as uncertain as it did.

"Nice? That’s not exactly complimentary…But it’s still a compliment!"  He gave Rivaille a grin, and it occurred to him that Eren was one of those people who was never opposed to holding another’s gaze, kind of like him. "Well, it’s nice meeting you, Rivaille.” 

*****    

Conversation didn’t progress much after that. As Rivaille resumed staring reverently at the dazzling tree, Eren occasionally twisted around to take photographs of the scene around him. Then, without even a word or acknowledgment, he left Rivaille standing there alone.

This didn’t bother him much. The boy seemed Nice (he was now rather self-conscious about using this word), but he had never interacted with a human who was not either Hanji, Erwin, or one of his co-workers. The reason, to be perfectly honest, was simply because Rivaille had, in Hanji’s oh so eloquent terms, ”a bad case of verbal diarrhea.” He couldn’t argue with that, he really did seem to find himself at a loss for words more often than he’d care to admit. Yes, Eren was nice, but for the sake of who he was and why he was even in New York in the first place (or lack of reason, to be more accurate), it was best that he never saw him again. Though, that could hardly be avoided when he returned later with a coffee cup in each hand. One was offered to him.

"I don’t like coffee," said Rivaille after a moment’s pause.

"It’s not coffee." Eren gave the cup a little shake, as though doing so made it seem more inviting.

Pause. “But it’s a coffee cup.”

"It’s a cup, from a café that sells coffee, but it’s hot chocolate." Seeing that Eren made no move to withdraw his arm, Rivaille sighed and took the cup. They were quiet for a moment. watching the tree and sipping from their respective drinks.

The silence was broken by Eren, who, upon finishing his chocolate, turned to Rivaille with a grin and said, “Let’s walk to Central Park!”

He’d looped his arm through Rivaille’s, so he was forced to follow Eren. He briefly wondered what other things there were to see in New York City. And were they all as stunning as the Rockefeller Christmas Tree?

"You’re new in town, aren’t you?" asked Eren a minute or so into their walk.

"How do you know?"

"Because we’re walking the wrong way." Eren shot him another one of those painstakingly bright grins of his, and tugged his arm in what he presumed was the right direction. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were from another country.”

"I —"

"Actually, you look foreign. Kinda European, maybe."

"You look, er, white?"

Eren seemed a bit surprised by that, but gave an answer nonetheless. “Technically, I’m German. Do I sound German?” He didn’t give Rivaille a chance to reply before, “What about you? Your name seems kind of French, but it might just be a weird name.” The boy was nosy, Rivaille noted, though not so much as a stalker way; it was more of bursting curiosity.

"I was born on France," said Rivaille, enough to sufficiently answer the boy’s question while avoiding having to  go into territory he’d rather not talk about. Eren gave a hum in acknowledgement, and Rivaille realized that they were heading back the way he had come from.

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Rivaille having gotten accustomed to the feel of their looped arms. The silence was broken by the time they reached the park, by Eren no less.

"Hey, let’s play 20 questions!" Before Rivaille had a chance to comment on the fact that they had met about an hour ago (not that he minded, Eren was surprisingly comfortable to be around) he was cut off by the first question.

"How old are you?"

A moment of contemplation on whether he should answer, before deciding to humor him. “Thirty.”

 ”No! Really? What are you, perpetually twenty five in the looks department or something? I’m twenty four, by the way. Your turn.”

Rivaille toke a moment to mull over the fact before asking his question.

"Are you a native?" As soon as the question left his mouth, he realized how stupid it had been. Obviously Eren was from around here, from the way he had the place mapped out like the back of his hand. However, Eren surprised him once again with his answer.

"Nope, I’m visiting my sister for the holidays. Well, my adopted sister, but she might as well be my flesh and blood. Second question! Why’d you come to New York?"

Rivaille sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Erwin,” he said, and then, at Eren’s confused look, “my boss. He says I need to get out more, said I had a meeting in New York, then called last minute to inform me that there was no meeting and that he’d sent me to have ‘fun’.” He’d been pissed. First Hanji, now Erwin. You’d think, with the way they acted, that he was some sort of workaholic loner (which wasn’t too far off, butt it was the principle of the matter). The only reason he hadn’t booked a flight back the minute Erwin had called him was because Hanji had moved to NY a couple months back, and he’d rather be staying with her than some crappy hotel.

Eren nodded, somewhat understandingly. “Mikasa, my sister, says I need to talk to people more and thought Armin doesn’t count. In my defense, that’s only because whenever I visit I stay at home, since this whole place’s been turning into a tourist attraction. Scratch that, it already is one. Anyway, enough about me, it’s your turn.”

Rivaille hadn’t been expecting that. With the way Eren had so eagerly latched onto him, he’d expected the kid to have a circle of friends. Then again, he might have one, just not in New York.

They’d reached the park now, and Eren tugged Rivaille up towards the lake. “Are you a photographer?” he asked at last, for lack of anything better.

By the way Eren’s eyes lit up, Rivaille could tell this was a topic he’d happily discuss. “Uh huh! I’m a freelance photographer. Occasionally I’ll take some pictures for a magazine or something, but not often. I like taking photographs, capturing certain moments, getting the perfect lighting, testing which lenses would go best with whatever I’m taking a picture of. Mikasa says I should get a proper job, except I don’t see why, since I get by just fine, and it makes me happy. Third question! When’s your birthday?” The sudden question caught Rivaille off guard, who, surprisingly, found himself wanting to hear more about Eren, hear him speak about something so ecstatically. Nonetheless, he kept a straight face as he answered the question.

"December twenty fifth," he said, his mind still on the way eren’s bluegreen eyes had lit up just moments before.

"So your birthday’s on Christmas?" asked Eren, brows shooting up. "So does that mean you get two presents every year? Nah, I’m kidding, but wow, that’s pretty cool." 

"Not really." They had reached the lake by now, and Rivaille could see the Plaza Hotel reflected in the frozen over waters. They watched it for a moment. drinking in the sight before them, before Eren gave a small tug on his arm, indicating that they should head back.

"Well, I better go before the taxis stop doing their rounds around the Park," said Eren, and was that a hint of disappointment Rivaille heard? When Eren made no move to leave, Rivaille spoke up.

"You don’t have to stay on account of me."

"I know, though I still want to stay a bit longer. It was great meeting you Rivaille. Rivaille, God, I love that name!"

"Goodnight," he bid, offering Eren a small smile.

“‘Night!” He paused from turning around and gleefully added, “Merry Christmas! And happy birthday!”

*****

"What? Are you fucking kidding me?" screeched Hanji, tossing a crumpled Twix wrapper at Rivaille’s head. "What the hell is wrong with you? ‘Nice’ was all you had to say?"

"Please do me a favor and shut the fuck up," said Rivaille before rubbing his fingertips into his temples, forcing back the headache he felt coming. Upon noticing Rivaille’s expression, she grinned and clamped a hand onto his shoulder.

“It seems like you, my friend, are smitten,” she said gleefully.

This earned her an extremely impatient look from Rivaille, who had by now had his face in his hands, and Hanji simply smirked and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Do continue!”

With a resigned sigh, he moved away from Hanji’s touch, and his eyes narrowed with concentration. “There’s not much more to say, really. He commented on the tree, introductions were made, we played 20 questions, that was it really.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “And he was wearing a shit ton of sweaters for god know’s why.”

"You just played 20 questions with an attractive stranger?” She raised a skeptical brow.

"He’s barely even legal, and even if I see him again (stop smirking that damn creepy grin Hanji, I’m not going to go back just for some kid) it’s not like I’ll have anything to say." His hands were on his face again.

Hanji patted his back again. “Well, see if he’s there tomorrow. You never know, this might end up like one of those movies. Desperately Seeking Rivaille, Breakfast at Rivaille’s When Rivaille met - ” she was cut off by a groan. Cackling, she shook his shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll make you another tea.”

*****

Rivaille had, against his better judgement, gone to Rockefeller Center once again the next night (no, not for some brat, just for another look at the big ass tree). Eren wasn’t there again when he arrived, and Rivaille had felt a bit offended, and then embarrassed that he had gotten offended when he had no right to be, and then he’d gotten pissed for getting embarrassed about getting offended.

He was here tonight; he’s spotted the head of mussed up hair about a half hour or so after he’d arrived, yet he made no move towards him. Why, Rivaille honestly didn’t know. This was no good, if he ended up really liking the boy (too late for that), he’s just e more miserable than usual when he got home, but he knew that if he didn’t make a move. he’d never get another chance; hie flight back to San Francisco was the next night. He was in a quandary. Before he could jam his hands into his pockets, go to Hanji’s to drink it off and pretend it never happened, he looked up from where he’d been studying his shoes and was face to face with a grinning Eren. And god if that smile didn’t make him feel butterflies in his stomach, and fuck, he was in love with a kid he’d met the night before. 

"I got you something," was all Eren said, and it was then that Rivaille noticed the paper in Eren’s hand. "I took a picture of you last night, and I’d wanted to tell you, honest, I was going to, but then you said it was your birthday so I thought I’d wait till today." Upon further inspection, Rivaille realized it was in fact a photograph in Eren;s hands, and wordlessly, he took it. The photo took his breath away. It was of Rivaille, his back to the camera, facing the Rockefeller Tree. Someone had been wearing a black trenchcoat, and there must have been a breeze when the photo was take, for the captured image of the coat in motion made it seem as though great wings were on Rivaille’s back. Coupled with the lights from the tree, the photo was breathtaking. Rivaille was at a loss for words.

“Eren, I - I don’t, wow.”

Eren grinned, those perfect lips curling up, and Rivaille shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t but fuck, if he wasn’t going to see Eren again, he’d make the best of it, and he leaned up on tiptoes and smashed his mouth against Eren’s.

It wasn’t much of a kiss, (hell, Rivaille had never even had a proper kiss), just teeth knocking together and a graze of lips, and it was over in a second. Eyes widening as he realized what he’d done, Rivaille attempted to step back, but Eren’s caught his wrist. Fuck.

Eren’s eyes were hooded, lips red, and Rivaille could see his breath coming out as small puffs in the cold, and then he leaned down and kissed him once more, and Rivaille’s arms found their way around Eren’s neck, and oh god he really shouldn’t but in that moment, he really couldn’t give a shit.

*****

Hanji drove him to the airport. It was a silent drive, Hanji not even bothering to make any jokes to lighten the mood. Rivaille had come home and told her everything, from the picture to the kiss to the way he had felt on fire and how he had fucked himself because he’d never see Eren again and oh god, he’d broken down and Hanji had let him snot all over her front. It was a long, torturous drive, and once Rivaille was in, Hanji gave him one last silent hug, told him he’d be alright.

He was waiting outside the terminal when he spotted it. A head of messy brown hair and then he’d spotted the horrible Christmas sweater that he’d been taking off and oh god he was dreaming.

Suddenly, he saw him sigh heavily and sharply turn around to walk off. Rivaille made a move to follow, but he hesitated. What would he say? What would Eren say? How would he react? How was Rivaille supposed to react? What was the point of this? Why was he even there?

Eren spotted him before he could turn around and pretend that none of this, any of this had happened. Rivaille spotted Eren’s grin, that damn perfect mouth, and then Eren broke into a run, and Rivaille’s suitcase was forgotten as he was swept up into Eren’s arms. He pulled back for a moment, then leaned in once more.

It was only one kiss, but when he pulled away, he breathed comfort. Filling Eren’s eyes was his characteristic playfulness and a hint of mischief.

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye?" he asked, coloring his tone with coyness. Just as coyly, he cocked his head inquiringly at him. 

"Were you?" 

"No! But I didn’t know where you were staying, and I went to the tree but you weren’t there and Mikasa told me to hurry up or I’d miss my flight and to take off all my sweaters since I’d bake once I got off the plane and - " he was cut off by Rivaille’s hand over his mouth.

"Eren," he said, very quietly, "where exactly did you say you came from to visit?" Eren gave him a puzzled look.

"I didn’t, but California. Rivaille, why - " he was cut off once more by Rivaille pulling him into a hug, burying his face in in the puzzled man’s chest, who hugged him back, albeit a bit confused.

They stood for a moment, in a quiet embrace, before Rivaille murmured, “Wait till I tell Hanji she was right.”

**Author's Note:**

> originally this was going to be a muli chapter fic but my schedule wouldn't allow that so here's a crappy one shot. also this ended being cliche as hell so I apologize for that but literally the only place I know is NY . Feedback would be much appreciated!


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